Burning Love Sickness
by XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: As a fire-fighter, Alfred knew that it was the general stereotype that he would rescue at least one kitten in his career from a tree. What he didn't expect was the kitten in question to belong to his handsome neighbour, and that he would find himself setting up far too many excuses to see the medic, only to catch what seemed to be quite a contagious disease. AmeCan Fluff.


**Hello! For those of you that don't follow me on Tumblr, there's been quite an absence of my fics on here, and for that, I'm very sorry! I have been writing, quite a lot actually, but I've been posting all my fics on my Tumblr account and neglecting this one a little! I'm very sorry! If you would like to read more of my fics when I post them, rather than me forgetting to re-upload them here, definitely go check out my Tumblr which is on my profile for you! If you like this fic, Like and Reblog it on Tumblr as well~! All my fics are organised by pairing in the 'Fic Master Collection' link on my blog! Big smooches, and sorry for the delay in fics!**

**So one day, wolfsban and I were talking about AmeCan stories, as we almost always do, and she ended up leading one story down a super sad track that broke my heart. So in retaliation, and to cheer us both up, I started babbling about Fire Fighter!Alfred and Medic!Matthew and cute and dumb ways for them to get together. So this is what happened! And in classical joke, my word count hit her expectations, regardless of me saying it would only be "short". Goodness. I do hope you enjoy it! Smooch smooch!**

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><p>"<em>Meow.<em>"

Violet eyes blinked up at the tree, blond eyebrows knitting and lips pursing as he sighed, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Really? _Again_?" Matthew muttered irritably, clicking his tongue at the cat that was all too proud of itself, tail swaying side to side, claws retracting and extending into the bark, now having fallen silent at being discovered in, _of course_, the same tree it had gotten stuck up in infinite times before, "This is the _third_ time this _week_."

"_Meow._"

Unamused, Matthew frowned and shook his head, sighing and moved to the base of the tree, hand extending up to the nearest branch he could reach. Rocking onto the balls of his feet, his fingers barely brushed the limb enough to tap it, not even close to the little kitten stuck towards the top of the old and tall Lillypilly tree. He had half a mind to take an axe to the trunk and kick it down himself and reuse the damn tree for firewood instead of his cat's side hobby of making him climb every second day just to exhaust him more after a long day of work. Tch. As if he wasn't worked hard enough in the ambulance he rode in. Being a paramedic was hard, but this cat was starting to creep its way up in difficulty on the list of things stressing Matthew out in his life.

Weren't pets meant to be therapeutic?

Dropping back to rest flatfooted, Matthew sighed for the umpteenth time, a hand combing through his hair and scooping back long strands of pale blond, the caramel tips glowing in the sunset as he made a face. With that, he turned and headed towards his house, defeated. There really was no other option besides getting the ladder. _Again_.

"Hey!"

Pausing in his steps, Matthew blinked, glancing over his shoulder to his neighbour; a cheerful young American in his twenties, around his age, maybe twenty five—he'd never asked—a bright smile and a neatly kept front yard.

"Evening, Alfred," Matthew greeted, offering up a smile to the man—a fire fighter, still dressed in the thick yellow pants, jacket wrapped around his middle, a white muscle shirt giving the Canadian a good view of his efforts to keep his strength up. They'd had a few interactions, enough to be polite, know each other's names and have seen each other in work uniforms once or twice before.

"Evenin'! Got a problem there?" Alfred asked, leaning against the white picket fence separating their houses, arms crossing on the tips of the two by four's casually, smile bright and lopsided, boyish in its charm, "Heard some poor cat cryin' and I got a bit worried."

Rolling his eyes, Matthew gestured to the tree, Alfred's gaze following to look to the top, catching the sway of a fluffy brown tail.

"My cat's gotten stuck up the tree. He's just a kitten and this is his first home, so he's still learning and adjusting, but he seems to enjoy getting himself as high as he can and then not being able to get himself down," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck, lips pursing to the side, "I was about to climb up and get him down in just a moment. Sorry for the noise."

Alfred waved the apology away, smiling wider, pushing himself up to stand straight, turning his eyes up to the tree as he spoke, "Nah, no problem. Ain't buggin' me at all, I was just worried, y'know. Need any help? Cliché and all, but I could grab the little guy."

Matthew found himself smiling, the thought endearing, but shook his head.

"I appreciate it, but it's okay, I've got it under control," he replied, turning and walking back towards his house, "Thanks anyway, Alfred!"

Alfred's smile fell, watching the Canadian disappear into his home, the kitten once again mewling in the tree miserably, bright blue eyes turning to look up at it inquisitively, head tilting a bit before looking back to the house. Well, it shouldn't be _that_ difficult. It was only a tree, after all, not a burning building. Besides, the neighbour was cute, and this was as good a time as any to try and strike up a conversation and get to know him a bit better, if only for the fact that they were similar in age and both worked in emergency services. He could recognise the paramedic uniform quite easily, given the amount of times that they showed up after he did in the fire truck.

Quickly, Alfred jogged around the little fence separating them, and after a brief moment of analysing the tree shape and the protruding limbs within reach, he crouched low and made a leap for the lowest branch, grasping it successfully with both hands. Immediately, he was clambering up, swinging himself up and then reaching more stable branches, pulling himself deeper into the boughs one after the other, grinning to the kitten when he caught it purring, tail swishing and looking at him expectantly.

"Come on here, buddy, I'll get ya down," he promised softly, a hand extending for a branch a little higher, pulling himself up a bit more, muscles hard and flexing, boots able to get a good grip against the tree, "I bet your owner's pretty worried, huh?"

"_Meow._"

Oh. That had sounded a bit more aggressive now that he was up close to the kitten. It was a little ball of fluff, white with a thick fluffy brown tail and brown fur that collared around its head, the brown fur strands longer than the white, the tiniest of brown splotches beneath its eyes giving it the appearance of fuzzy glasses. It was an adorable kitten, and Alfred found himself wishing he had a pet of his own.

Wrapping his thighs around the branch he was sitting on, he locked his ankles to give himself as much support as he could whilst both hands reached out slowly, smiling wider.

"Do ya think he's into this kinda thing? Maybe we could work together and—_whoa_!"

Alfred's hand retracted the moment it was swiped at, the little kitten growling deep in its throat in warning, claws extracted and tail no longer swaying. Making a face, Alfred pouted, lips pulling to the side.

"Come on, don't do this to me," he pleaded, reaching out and wincing as this time the swipe connected, shallowly cutting the back of his hand, his eyes immediately narrowing in displeasure, "Alright, don't play fair, but I'm gettin' ya down."

It was a struggle; first having to dislodge the kitten from the place it had attached itself to, and then having to cling hard to the tree with his legs as the animal began to claw at his exposed arms, hands, neck and face, darting about before he managed to snag a firm grip, half wrapping it in his shirt to stop it from starting up another rampage on his skin. As carefully as he could, mindful of the smaller one's much more fragile body and comfort, he made his way down the tree, reaching the lowest branch he could and landing with a heavy _thump_ on his feet as the front door to Matthew's house opened once more, the Canadian returning, only this time with an extendable ladder.

"Oh," he murmured, blinking violet eyes widely as Alfred stood up, shirt half tugged up his torso, exposing his muscled stomach and soft hips to the paler blond, the kitten held in both hands, a bright smile stretching his lips again, proud of his achievement, "You… Wow."

Holding up the ladder to show what he had gone to grab, Matthew ended up chuckling, placing it down on the ground to approach the American, taking the now happily purring kitten from his hands.

"Thank you," he said with relief, looking to Alfred, smile disappearing the moment he saw the scratches littering the other's face, concern overtaking his features as he held the kitten closer to his chest, the consistent sound of purring filling the air between them, "Are you okay?"

Alfred's chest puffed out proudly and he nodded excitedly, cheeks starting to turn a faint pink at the attention, fixing up his shirt hurriedly, eyes now focused on Matthew rather than the cat that seemed much too devilishly placid when not in his arms. The cuts were now starting to sting, but he tried to pay them little mind.

"Yeah, no problem. It's my job. I mean, uh, rescuin' cats ain't my job, but, y'know, we've done it all before. It's kinda like a known fact that fire-fighters gotta save a kitten or two in their career, or they ain't the real thing, y'know?" he laughed softly, feeling a tickling sensation against his cheeks, lifting up a hand to rub at it.

"You're bleeding," Matthew murmured, stepping forward to inspect the scratches, only slightly beginning to bead with little crimson specks along the deeper sections that had cut a bit more than just skin, "Why don't you come inside? I'll treat those for you. I'm a medic, after all, so I've got the right equipment inside. I'll help heal your _battle wounds_."

Alfred lowered his hand, studying the faint smear on the backs of his fingers before looking up to Matthew, offering a bright smile, his heart beginning to pick up pace in his chest, beating hard and loud.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'd love that!" he chirped, stepping forward to follow Matthew in, the cat perfectly behaved now.

"Maybe even have a coffee afterwards? I'm sure we'll run into each other on the field, so, maybe we can get to know each other a little better before then, eh?"

Praise that satanic little kitten with claws from hell; it did something good in the end.

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><p>The little kitten, known fondly and jokingly as AmeriKitty by the two North Americans—a cross of America and Kitty, promised to be called AmeriCat once it grew up—was rescued again several times by Alfred within the following week. Twice, Alfred went searching for the kitten simply as an excuse to visit Matthew's home. Once, he was caught baiting the cat, feigning it had mysteriously gotten caught up a tree. Matthew kept silent about spotting Alfred over the fence through his kitchen window with his hand extended, holding a bit of chicken out and wagging it back and forward whilst meowing softly in pitch. Three times he faked a cough simply to let the medic give him a check up, to strike up idle conversation, and then invite him to dinner as repayment for the favour. Most of the time, he had ended up eating dinner at Matthew's place regardless.<p>

It was after the fourth week of pulling the kitten from the tree that Matthew acted, his expression quickly turning serious as Alfred held up the cat, as though in explanation for why he was at the Canadian's doorstep.

"Alfred? Are you feeling well?"

The question, so out of the blue, prompted Alfred to blink in surprise, the smile wavering a little bit as he tilted his head in confusion.

"Am I…?"

"You don't look too good right now, you're showing a few nasty symptoms," Matthew interrupted, eyebrows knitting as he took the kitten from Alfred's hold, the American now much more panicked and concerned, bright blue eyes comically wide, "You'll have to come in, I need to give you a proper medical check."

"What is it?" Alfred blurted out, voice climbing in octaves, breaking much like a teenager's would, hurriedly stepping inside, having only half a mind to take his shoes off in the main entrance, hobbling on one foot to yank the other off before hurrying after Matthew, the door having been shut as he did so, kitten placed on the floor to meow and circle their legs, "Mattie, what d'ya think it is?"

As always, Alfred was lead to the living room, urged to sit down on the sofa, Matthew's medical equipment always tucked away close by in every room. It always paid to have it handy in case of an accident or urgent issue.

"Remove your shirt for me, please," Matthew instructed, sitting himself down next to Alfred, frown on his face as he studied the other up and down critically.

Urgently, Alfred yanked at his shirt, knocking his glasses askew in the process of removing it and tossing it aside, eyes darting between Matthew's face, the medical kit he'd pulled closer, and the Canadian's hands, his heart pounding in his chest not only from being so close to Matthew, shirtless at that, but now from growing anxieties about what could possibly be wrong with him.

Gently, routinely, Matthew's hands pressed to Alfred's neck, fingers feeling, pushing against lymph nodes and testing for swelling and sensitivity, expression a mix of concentration and concern. Alfred remained silent throughout the inspection. Blue eyes locked on violet as they studied his body intently, a hand pressing over pectoral and heart, resting there to feel the slamming of the American's heart in his chest.

"Oh no," Matthew breathed after a moment, his shoulders slumping a bit, eyebrows pinching tight, "This is bad."

Panicked, Alfred's face quickly morphed into terror. Of all the times coming to Matthew over made up coughs just to have the man's company, the one time he thought he was perfectly healthy, fine and feeling great, Matthew diagnoses him with something bad.

"What? What?!" he asked, urgent, the grave and sympathetic gaze he was being given only serving to work him up more, "What is it, Mattie?!"

"This is terminal, and contagious," Matthew whispered.

Tears had already begun to glisten in Alfred's eyes, muscles tense and trembling, eyes locked with Matthew's, searching.

"Isn't there a cure?" he pressed, shakily lifting a hand to run through his hair, pushing it back from his face, "Can it be healed at all?"

Matthew nodded, turning his gaze away slowly, the corners of his lips twitching.

"There is, but, I think I caught it too. We both need the cure now."

Borderline tears, too many words jumped up to choke themselves in Alfred's throat, unsure which he could say first—which he _should_ say first; apologies, pleads, a need for explanation, demanding where the cure for him—for _both_ of them—was. How could he do this? Though his intentions had been to get to know the other, be friendly, maybe even get a little bit closer and be able to hold hands and cuddle on the couch during stupid replays of comedy movies on the television after a homemade dinner, and instead, he went and gave Matthew some contagious and terminal sickness.

"What is it?" he choked out in the end, tears fat and heavy against his bottom eyelid, clotting his eyelashes together as he dragged a rattling breath down his throat, worked up and terrified and so ready to simply sob.

"It's very serious. We need the cure now or we have no chance of surviving," Matthew continued, shifting a little where he sat, eyeing the way a tear slid over Alfred's sun kissed cheek, the pre-cry breaths growing louder with sniffles, "It's good that I have it handy though."

And just like that, Matthew leant in, tilting his head and pressed his lips softly to Alfred's, shocking the man into freezing up, bright blue eyes wide, no longer as afraid or upset, but more baffled. Pulling back after the chaste and sweet kiss, Matthew opened his eyes, looking up at the American and chuckled, rubbing his hand over the other's pounding heart, his other lifting up to caress a cheek.

"Much better, eh?"

Lost and unsure what to think, Alfred's hand simply lowered from his hair to his lips, touching them softly, still able to feel the phantom sensation of the kiss tingling and lingering.

"I'm not dying?"

"Only dying to go on a date with me."

"I'm not sick?"

"Only love sick."

The information took a few more moments to process until Alfred's eyes regained focus on Matthew once more, taking in the playful, amused, and slightly apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you that much?" he chuckled, brushing away the tears that were ready to fall, and the single one that had fallen.

"That was a mean prank," Alfred chided softly, voice monotonous, and Matthew laughed, shifting in to wrap his arms around the fire fighter, nodding in agreement, "So ya better give me loads more of that cure to make up for it."

Letting himself be pressed down to the couch by Alfred's broad hands, Matthew laughed, sliding his fingers up to lace through the other's hair while Alfred pouted grouchily, though looked so much more relieved and even grateful.

"I'll heal your love sickness if you put out this fire in me."

"Nah… Let it keep burnin'. Let's burn in this fever together."


End file.
